


Stars

by AJLenoire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) Lives, Allura (Voltron)-centric, Allura deserved better, Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, In the Veil, Limbo, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Allura/Lance (Voltron), Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28713237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJLenoire/pseuds/AJLenoire
Summary: Their good work was done.She had never felt so old, so young, so alive, so distant. It was exhausting. It hurt to simply be. It was the most glorious thing she had ever felt.The other one had faded away. Either stopped caring or actively encouraged it. Had that been recently? Or aeons ago? She didn’t know. She didn’t really care.
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I think I deleted this thing by accident a few months ago?? Ahhh it needed tidying anyway. Enjoy! (Again)

“ _Paladins!_ ”

Coran’s voice was relieved over the comm link. “ _You’re alive!_ ” he cried. “ _Oh, thank the Ancients!_ ”

There was so much happening that none of them got a chance to explain until they touched down on Altea. Coran bounded out of the ship and ran to where Voltron touched down on the ground, splitting apart into five Lions and the Atlas when it did. His face fell when he realised only five people came outside.

“Where… where’s the Princess?” he asked, looking around. “Where’s Allura?”

“Coran…” Shiro began, but how to continue? What could he say. He swallowed. “It was her choice.”

“What?” Coran’s face became concerned. “What was her choice? Where—where is she?”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro went on. His voice was unsteady. Coran’s brows twitched. Pidge was red-eyed. Hunk and Lance were still openly crying. And—

“What’re those?” Coran exclaimed, pointing at Lance. “On your _face?_ ” He glared at them all, somehow knowing it was related to Allura's absence. “Where’s Allura?” he asked again. “ _Where is she?_ ”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said again. “There was—there was nothing we could do.”

“No,” Coran said shortly. “ _No._ ” He shot Shiro a dirty look. “I… I don’t believe you!” he said indignantly. “Where is she? _WHERE?_ ”

“She sacrificed herself to save us,” Lance said quietly, tears still streaming down his face. “To save everything. Honerva… she was going to destroy reality. Allura…” His voice caught on her name. “She stayed behind to—”

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Coran cried angrily. He pointed at Shiro accusatorily. “You should have stopped her! _All of you! **YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HER!**_ ”

“Coran, I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered. His voice was shaking. His fists were clenched and he stared into the middle distance, trying his hardest not to let the tears fall. He had to be strong, because Allura had always been strong for them, and it wasn’t fair to burden her with that after all she’d done.

“ _Don’t say you’re sorry!_ ” he snapped, and now he, too, was crying. “You _left_ here there! With _Honerva!_ You _left_ here there on her _own_ and—" His voice caught on the realisation. "— _I didn’t even get to say goodbye!_ Do you know what she meant to me? **_Do you?_** ”

“Of course I do!” Shiro snapped. “All of us do, Coran! You think you’re the only person who cared about her? The only person who loved her? But it was her choice.”

“I don’t _care!_ ” he wailed. “You should have _done_ something!” He was sobbing now, and he put a hand to his face to try and stifle the cries. It was no use, and in a gesture that surprised all of them, but perhaps the one who did it the most, Shiro stepped forwards, raising his arms and pulled Coran in for a hug.

“You should have _done_ something…” he moaned into Shiro's shoulder, weeping with an old sort of grief; a tired grief. Something of the first Altea, rendered to space dust and fairytales. The grief of a man who had lost everything before, and now, had lost it all again. The grief of a man who had lost if not a daughter, then surely a niece; undoubtedly someone he had loved dearly. “You should have _done_ something!" You shouldn’t have let her go, you should have… have…”

“I know,” Shiro muttered. And now that no one was looking at him, he let the tears fall, silent and steady. “I know.”

* * *

Their good work was done.

She had never felt so old, so young, so alive, so distant. It was exhausting. It hurt to simply be. It was the most glorious thing she had ever felt.

The other one had faded away. Either stopped caring or actively encouraged it. Had that been recently? Or aeons ago? She didn’t know. She didn’t really care.

Perhaps she should have cared more; perhaps she should’ve felt something, but she couldn’t. Perhaps she had been here too long, or perhaps it really was impossible to feel pity for the monster that had almost destroyed all of existence.

She understood why Honerva had done what she’d done, but couldn’t forgive it. Countless lives, almost erased entirely, almost destroyed beyond repair. Explanations were not excuses, and she had almost destroyed existence itself.

 _So much hatred, so much anger_ , she thought. _What a waste._

She couldn’t help but wonder if she would have ended up the same way, if the stars had been aligned differently. An Altean alchemist, trained in Oriande; a Black Paladin, fearsome in battle. It seemed almost dangerously easy, but also ludicrously far-fetched.

But now, at last, at long last, she was finished, and with a final burst of quintessence she sent the final completed strand snaking up across the infinity space she found herself trapped in, conscripted ( _condemned_ ) to be the Guardian of Worlds for the rest of time and existence itself.

She walked over to one strand. Her favourite, always her favourite, and peered inside, skilled fingers gently teasing and pulling until she had the view she wanted.

Lance was planting juniberries on his family farm. Keith was polishing his Marmora knife under a tree, his hair even longer than last time she’d seen it, pulled back into a ponytail. They were both laughing about something.

Pidge and Matt—now even taller and short-haired—were assembling what looked like a robotic human. They were chatting excitedly, making wild gestures with the tools they held.

Shay and Romelle were with Hunk in the kitchen, practicing what she could only assume was one of his latest recipes. Romelle was salivating over a platter as James Griffin stood awkwardly behind her and tried to start a conversation. Hunk would have helped him had he not been occupied with Shay a little ways off, speaking soft, tender words and brushing his nose over hers in a butterfly kiss.

Coran and Shiro were standing in front of that statue. She hated that statue. Hated that it was closer to them than she would ever be ever again. They were talking beneath it, looking pained and melancholy. That was her fault, she realised. It was she who had caused them that pain.

 _You’ve already suffered so much… I wish I could ease your pain_.

She suddenly became aware of a presence behind her. Panicked, she whipped around. Nothing in this place existed without _her_ having created it; who— _what_ —dared encroach this place? What had the power? Who had the _nerve?_

She realised at once that it wasn’t a being of particular power _or_ nerve. A human. A male.

“Where… where am I?” The human looked up, turned around, and his gaze settled on her, staring at him incredulously. Keen eyes behind glasses, tan skin and brown hair not unlike Lance. But older. He frowned. So did she. Impossibly, she recognised him.

“Hey,” he said carefully. “I _know_ you.”

“I think you do,” she replied, equally carefully. Their eyes roved over one another, sizing each other up. “And I think _I_ know _you_ , also.”

“You’re the Princess, aren’t you?” he said. It was a question, though not phrased in a way that suggested he needed answered. “I saw you… from the other side. With… with the others.” His tone was chary, toeing a meticulous line just this side of pained and grieving.

“Princess of what?” she asked, unable to keep the dullness out of her tone. It was a fair point. For the longest time her planet hadn’t even _existed_. And even the new version she had created, she was separated from, trapped outside its universe. “But yes, I suppose. And you’re Shiro’s—”

“No.” He cut across her in a polite but firm tone. “I’m not his anything. Not anymore.” He sounded sad, but not bitter. Her heart ached for him—for both of them.

“Do you…” She looked him over, appraising him. “Do you know why you’re here?”

He frowned, contemplative. “No…” he said slowly. “I was rather hoping _you_ could tell me that.”

Almost guiltily, she looked towards the view she had constructed for herself in the strand. Shiro’s forlorn expression, her wish combined with her power and her connection to this place. “I think I might’ve summoned you here. From… beyond. Accidentally, of course,” she added quickly. “I don’t make a habit of disturbing the dead.” A slew of memories came to the forefront of her mind. “At least… I don’t _try_ to.”

He nodded. “I see,” he said slowly. “I _thought_ I was dead.” A pause. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, really, but it’s quite nice there.” He grinned at her, then frowned again. “Wait. Nothing is supposed to exist here. What’re _you_ doing here?”

She gestured all around them. “Repairing the damage of a lonely, entitled madwoman,” she answered, only feeling a prick of guilt at her possibly-slightly-unfair description of the woman that had forced her to entrap herself here. “I summoned my father here, before. And the other original Paladins of Voltron. I’ve become so attuned to this place, that…” She swallowed. “My apologies. I’ll be more careful.” She raised her hands, summoning a soft glow of quintessence.

“Hey, wait a second!” He raised his own hands, as if fending something off. “Don’t send me back—not just yet. You… you don’t look so good." He stepped forwards, concerned. "When was the last time you _spoke_ to someone?”

“Time doesn’t exist here,” she replied neutrally. She honestly didn’t know, anyway. She wouldn’t age, here. Wouldn’t die. She could blink and miss aeons. Sleep and miss but a minute. Her only anchor were the glimpses she stole. Sometimes she found only moments had gone by since she last looked. Others, months.

“All the same, it’s been too long.” He looked concerned. She might’ve been flattered if she weren’t so startled. Shiro had often spoken to her of this man—before the debacle with the clone, at least. He had described a kind, generous person, but also a stubborn one, and never had she believed she would ever _meet_ him, least of all have his caring and generosity directed at _her_. “Why are you here?” he asked again. He looked around them. At the strands. At the nothingness. “It looks like your work is done.”

“I don’t belong there anymore.” She glanced at her— _their_ —strand. “I have no place there.”

_But…_

“I could bring you back, though,” she said softly. “I brought back Altea. I could do the same with you. You could go home to him.”

A laugh. Not derisive, but moved. Biologically, they were the same age. Physically, she was aeons older than him. Powerfully, she was a goddess stood before an ant. But all the same she felt as though _he_ was the one advising _her_.

 _Only when you realise that everyone around you possesses a wealth of information that you do not, will you_ truly _begin to learn, to accumulate wisdom_.

Words her father had given her once, long ago. A strange memory pulled from the depths of her mind, barely a year before Zarko had destroyed Altea. This young man, she thought, possessed easily more than what constituted a ‘wealth’ of information.

“You’ve restored souls before,” he said, somehow knowing this even though she’d never told him. “You’ve never brought them back. Altea was empty when you restored it—its populated by that colony.”

“I have,” she told him, almost defensively. “I brought back Lance, I brought back Shiro. Takashi.” The name was so gentle on her lips, she saw something inside him break. He was touched. So was it longing? Or appreciation?

In any case, he shook his head.

“Neither of them were dead—not quite. Takashi…” His voice caught. He paused, cleared his throat, started again. “Takashi’s soul was in the Black Lion, not… _there_ , where mine is. The clone body was still alive. You’ve never restored souls from the beyond,” he said, more firmly this time.

“I could try,” she insisted. “He loved you. He loved you so much.” She swallowed. “He spoke to me about you. I hadn’t heard such love in someone’s voice since my father spoke about my mother.”

He blinked, and tears sparkled in his eyes. “You shouldn’t try,” he said, voice a little unsteady. “Even if I wanted you to—and I don’t.”

She stared at him. “But you love him,” she said. “And he loves you.”

“I do,” he agreed. “And he does. But you of all people should know that things aren’t that simple. Restoring a planet is one thing—planets aren’t sentient. A human life, a _soul_ , is quite another. And I’ve been gone long enough that, well… I think I would only serve to complicate things.” He gave her a smile that suggested they were in on a delightful joke together, but honestly she didn’t know in the slightest what that joke _was_.

“He wants the stars,” he went on. “Deserves them, too, but he’s wanted them since before I met him. He never would’ve chosen me over them." He sighed. "At the time, I was angry—more than a little jealous, really. And I was scared for him; that his dream would get him killed. But I went about it the wrong way, gave him an ultimatum that was only going to have one outcome. Nothing could ever come between him and the sky.”

“A truer Black Paladin has never been found,” she agreed, and they shared a smile. “He’s a good man,” she went on. “I’m honoured to have known him.”

He gave a warm, touched smile. “It’s not really fair, is it?” he said lightly. “For any of you.”

“Us.” Her correction was quiet but held all the firmness of a queen. He smiled. “And no,” she went on. “It isn't.”

“Takashi is easily the best man I’ve ever known,” he told her, hands in his pockets, tone frank.

She chuckled. “He said the same thing about you.”

“Of course he would, I’m delightful,” he shrugged, mock haughty, and they both shared a laugh, echoing in the vast emptiness. “But regardless, we weren’t meant to be.”

“I can _change_ that,” she pleaded, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes. He was startled by her desperation. “I fixed Altea, I can fix this—I can give you all you wanted, _Shiro_ all he wanted.”

This time his smile was soft, devoid of amusement. Instead, pure affection. “You love him.”

Her eyes went wide. “I—what?”

“You don’t want to admit it, I think.” He looked her up and down. “But you would do anything to alleviate his pain.” The smile got bigger. “You carried his soul in your body, and you respect him utterly. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is—and I consider myself something of an expert when it comes to being in love with Takashi Shirogane.”

“I… I…” She swallowed. “I mean… of _course_ I love Shiro, he… he meant— _means_ —a great deal to me. But…”

“But the other one?” A delicate eyebrow rose, precise and shrewd. “Lance? Yes, that was his name.” His expression seemed to say _well?_

“Lance… Lance has his family.” The words emerged from her mouth as if forced, and she almost choked on them. “I love him, I _do_ , I… But it wasn’t the same…I thought Shiro would…”

_I didn’t return Lance’s affections because I was in love with Shiro. And when I thought Shiro would never love me in the same way… Oh, Ancients… how could I have been so cruel?_

“I’m a monster,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes and she stared, horrified, into nothing.

“No,” he said at once. “Not at all. You’ve sacrificed so much— _too_ much. No one should ever have to do what you did.”

“I played with a boy’s heart,” she told him, the tears coming thicker now in her anger. “I let him fall in _love_ with me and I thought I loved him too, but… I _used_ him.” She hugged her arms around herself, disgusted. “How could I _ever_ think I deserve to go back… They’re better off without me.”

“Allura.”

It was the first time he’d said her name. She was so caught off guard she looked up at him, tears blurring her vision.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he told her. “What I did, with Takashi, that ultimatum? That was a mistake. But it needed to happen. Otherwise, we never would’ve realised that we weren’t meant for each other— _we’re not_ ,” he added, before she could protest again. “In one of those realities…” His eyes drifted to the strands behind his glasses. “…maybe. But not yours. Not _ours_.” Now he was the one who looked desperate. “ _Our_ Takashi would always choose the stars, always choose to prove himself, even if he doesn’t need to—even if he _shouldn’t_. He needs someone who can give him the stars. And we both know he deserves it.”

“How… why are you saying this?” she asked him.

“Because it needs to be said,” he answered, giving a shrug. “You’d be surprised what something like death does to your perspective— _real_ death. Not this halfway place.” He looked around. At the strands. At how there was literally nothing else for ever and ever. “You shouldn’t stay here. I don’t like it. You should go back.” 

“I _can’t_. Even if I knew _how_ , I—”

“Your work is done here, Princess,” he said calmly. “Look around you. You’ve done what you came to do. You deserve some happiness of your own, for once.”

“But… Lance…” she said in a small voice. “How could I face him… _any_ of them…?”

His smile was wry. “Something tells me that he’ll be okay with it,” he replied. “Several somethings, actually.” Because she wasn’t the only one who could look down and observe those left behind in the land of the living. “Takashi isn’t the only person who can fall in love more than once.”

This brought her more comfort than she felt it should, but at the same time, his words made increasingly apparent how tired she was of feeling sad, guilty and alone.

“He did,” she murmured. “Love you. So very much.”

“And he always will, in some manner,” he replied, shrugging. “That doesn’t mean he won’t love you every bit as fiercely. We both know he’s never been one to do things by half.” A pause. “Though his sense of style has degraded a little, wouldn’t you agree?”

She chuckled. “I’m no authority on earth fashion, but… perhaps a little.” They shared a laugh.

“The arm, especially…” he murmured. “I know you made it for him,” he added quickly. “And, truly, it was—”

“No, I agree,” she cut across smoothly. “I’d like to argue I was limited by Earth’s technology. Perhaps Pidge will craft him a better one.”

“Perhaps you can help her,” he said gently, the insistence in his voice subtle but nonetheless present.

She swallowed. “I _can’t_ go back,” she said. “ _Really_. Even if I can leave this place by itself, even if I could face Lance, Shiro, _all of them_ … I don’t know _how_.”

His smile was comforting. “If I might suggest something?”

“I’m all ears,” she shrugged, spreading her hands wide.

He grinned, pleased to have brought her round to the possibility of returning. He no longer had a place in that world; no one on his side of the veil did. But her, she wasn’t here by nature’s supreme equaliser. She was here because of her own selflessness, because of another woman’s greed and god complex. She was not here because she had died, but because everyone _else_ had _lived_.

“Just think of home,” he said softly. “I’ve seen what you and the others have done, Princess. Death is a spectator sport. You summoned me here by _accident_ , just by thinking about Takashi. I really don’t think there’s much you _can’t_ do, if you put your mind to it." His smile grew, and he beamed at her. "Going back to the people you love? _Easy_.”

That she didn't immediately dismiss this was proof he was getting through to her. After a long moment she said, “I wish you could come, too." Because he, like so many others, had died before his time, had died because of Honerva's greed and self-centeredness. Allura had dedicated her infinity to fixing that damage and it still wasn't repaired; would never be repaired.

A part of him wished the same, they both knew it.

“Just tell him hello from me,” he replied, smile sad but genuine. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in that moment. Closing her eyes, she let the quintessence wash over her, let the magic guide her. She was an alchemist, she could get back. She was their friend, she _had_ to get back.

A soft intake of breath made her open her eyes, and she saw him staring at the strand containing their reality. It had stretched, wider than she had ever done when taking a surrupticious glance at her friends. That had been barely enough for her to see a full scene. Now, it was large as a doorway; plenty big enough for her to step through.

She turned to him. “Are you sure—?”

“I am,” he said firmly. “But if you don’t mind…" He looked around mildly. "...I might need a bit of help getting back to where _I_ belong?”

With a small smile, she nodded and outstretched a hand, conjuring with a small flourish a similar doorway, but not connected to any strand. He nodded smartly, and they both stepped towards their exits. “Oh, and Princess?”

She turned back to look at him one last time, curious. “Yes?”

Adam’s smile was mischievous. “See to it that he gets a new arm,” he told her. “You deserve your crown back.”

Grinning through her tears, she nodded. “I… thank you.”

“You never have to thank me for anything,” Adam replied, his smile serene and glad. He stepped into his own doorway, vanishing in a flash of blindingly white light. His voice lingered even after his form disappeared. “Just be happy. _With him_.”

* * *

He was awoken by the roar.

Startled, he sat up in his bed, looked out to see that in the courtyard, she was _alive_. Moving and bright with quintessence, as she hadn’t been in almost exactly a year. The Blue Lion. _His_ Lion.

He ran to the others, to the closest room first, slamming the butt of his fist against the wall. “Keith!” he cried. “ _Keith!_ ”

A groan answered him; dejected and irritated. “ _What_ , Lance?” Keith snapped from behind the door, and a moment later, it opened to reveal him dazed, grouchy and shirtless.

“Blue!” he exclaimed. “Blue’s… _alive_. She’s up, she’s _moving_.”

This made him wake up. “She— _what?_ But… _how?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted. “But we have to get the others. You get Shiro, I’ll find Hunk and Pidge.”

“Right.” Keith nodded sharply, grabbing a t-shirt then sprinting off down the hallway to Shiro’s room as Lance bolted in the other direction, skidding to a halt in front of Pidge’s room, slapping Hunk’s door as he slid past. Both opened, and four bleary-eyed faced emerged; Hunk and Shay, and Matt and Pidge. From Pidge’s room, Lance could hear a game console beeping.

“What do you want, Lance?” Hunk asked around a yawn.

“Yeah,” Pidge scowled. “I was about to beat Matt at—”

“You were _not!_ ” Matt exclaimed, staring down in horror at his younger sister.

“Were _so!_ ” Pidge scoffed.

“GUYS!” Lance shouted, “The Lions—I’m here because _the Lions woke up!_ ”

All four of them turned to stare at him.

“They— _what?_ ” Shay was the first to regain her voice.

“They’re _moving_ ,” Lance told them, insistent. “Guys come _on!_ ”

No more had to be said; they ran. As they did, the others felt it, too. Green, Yellow, Red and Black; Pidge, Hunk, Keith and—strange, so strange, but he felt it— _Shiro_. He almost stopped dead in the hallway, but he felt it; he felt _Black_ in his mind again.

Keith noticed it, too. “That’s not Black, is it?” he asked his brother. “In my mind? That’s—that’s _Red_.”

“I think so,” Shiro murmured. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but we have to get to them,” Lance insisted. “Come _on_.”

They ran harder, all of them barefooted, not caring when the carpet became cold stone of the courtyard. They simply _ran_ , and then they were stood, awestruck, before the five great beasts, alive as if they’d never gone to sleep, as if they hadn’t been silent and still for the past year. Eyes glowing fierce yellows, jaws open in huge, thunderous growls. It was terrible, it was beautiful.

And then they rose to their feet, and in a great bound lifted off, soaring up into the sky with all the grace and speed of real lions, disappearing into the infinite expanse of the universe, and they knew, all five of them, that they would return. One day. When the universe needed Voltron once again.

There was a long silence. Keith was the first to look away from the sky, ducking his head and making to turn inside, but a flash of light caught his eye.

“Guys,” he said softly, pointing. Everyone turned to look, and watched as the light grew larger—or was it closer? Shiro’s expression turned from wistful to wary. Hunk moved in front of Pidge. Lance simply stared.

The light grew brighter, approaching them. Yet, none felt fear, only curiosity. They could feel the light. It was familiar, they thought. So familiar, but they couldn’t quite say why. All they knew was that it was friendly, it meant them no harm.

And then _she_ stepped out. And as they met each other’s gazes she suddenly realised what had been so obvious to Adam, so ambiguous to her; obscured possibly by her exhaustion, by her emotions. Her work had not been done. It had been missing one final piece.

 _She belonged here_.

Stunned, she lost control of herself a moment and stumbled, falling not to the ground, but into a pair of warm, familiar arms.

“Allura…” Lance was the first to find his words, but they came in a hushed, incredulous whisper. “You… you’re _here_. You’re _alive_.”

“I suppose I am…” she said carefully, offering a gentle smile. Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “It’s so good to see you, Lance,” she told him, and she meant it with every fibre of her being. “I’m so sorry—for _everything_.”

She had seen from outside the pain she had caused him. Perhaps, too, the realisation of what their relationship—if you could even call it that—had been. Something undeniably real and profound and tender, but in the wrong form.

 _Love is just different forms of the same feeling. Sometimes you can get them confused_. She swore it sounded like Adam’s voice in her head.

And as well as the pain, she had seen him heal. Seek comfort in his friends, but Keith most of all. Subtle touches, soft conversations. Watching the sun set on Altea and realising it had been every bit as breath-taking as she’d promised them, and more so.

She knew that when she apologised _for everything_ he knew every piece she meant.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything,” he assured her, hugging her just as tightly, even though he didn’t have her Altean strength. “I’m just… God, I’m just so glad you’re _back_.” When he grinned at her, she knew there would never be any animosity between them. It wasn’t in Lance’s nature to hold grudges against those he cared for. She grinned back.

“Is it… really you?” Pidge asked, hesitant. Never before had she looked so young.

“Yes,” Allura breathed. Pidge then bolted forwards and wrapped her arms tightly around Allura, and Allura was only too eager to reciprocate.

“I tried to bring you back!” Pidge cried, her voice choked and muffled. “Me and Hunk, we—we tried so hard to figure out a way to bring you back!”

“I know,” Allura murmured quietly. “I don’t have the words to express… express what that meant to me.” She looked up and saw Hunk, tears streaming freely down his face, and without a word he scooped them both up into a fierce, crushing hug, making only vague noises, unable or unwilling to speak.

When he finally let them go, he stayed cradling Pidge to him, as he had when they’d all said goodbye, almost exactly a year ago. Allura turned to a wide-eyed, straight-faced Keith.

“I don’t believe it,” he murmured. She smiled, almost nervous.

“I don’t quite believe it myself,” she admitted. “It’s… it’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Keith mumbled. His voice was gruff with the effort of forcing back tears as he pulled her into a hug. Behind them, they heard a scream, and jumped apart to see Romelle and Coran standing there, jaws dropped.

“ _By the Ancients…_ ” Coran muttered, just as Romelle screamed “ _ALLURA!_ ” and barrelled into her with enough force to almost overbalance her. “I thought—” Romelle started, then stopped. “I never got to—to say goodbye. I… I…” She babbled something in disbelieving Altean and hugged Allura again, even tighter, leaving the other woman so stunned it was all she could do to hug back.

“Allura,” Coran breathed. “I never thought… I didn’t let myself _dream_ …” His eyes were brimming with tears. “I swore to Alfor I would protect you,” he told her. “I promised _myself_ I would keep you safe and I… I…”

“You did everything you could, Coran,” she assured him in a slightly strangled voice. “You can’t blame yourself for my choice.” She swallowed. “I’m so sorry for doing that to you.”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologise!” Coran yelped, pulling her against him as warmly as any blood relative. “I’m just… I can’t… _thank Alfor you’re back_.”

For a long while, she just stood there. She had forgotten what it felt like, to be hugged by the man she viewed in many ways as a father. She had forgotten what it felt like to be cared for. To have someone being strong for _her_. It was a nice feeling, and she let herself be selfish a moment, and simply hugged him back. They clung to one another, and in that fervent embrace was all the apologies that her last goodbye had stolen from them. 

Then, through the soft quiet, the disbelief that somehow crackled with energy and yet was calm and still as the dead of night in which they stood, one last person had their relief to exclaim.

“Allura…”

She turned at the sound of her name. Only one person had ever said her name like that. The small crowd around her seemed to part to reveal him. A small smile pulled out her mouth; so patient, so polite and respectful, waiting for Romelle and Coran with nary a word. For a moment, she wondered if it was because he was less bothered, but really, she knew it was ridiculous. She remembered his words when they’d said goodbye. How strong his embrace had been. And if that hadn’t been enough, the look in his eyes when she met his gaze now most certainly was.

“Shiro,” she murmured, looking at him.

“I…” he started, but didn’t continue. Words failed him. How could he convey his relief? His regret for leaving her there, alone? How could he express to her the joy that was seeing her stood before him again? He didn’t know, so he pulled her into a quick hug and said nothing, and she held on to him as if afraid she might be dragged back into the in-between space at any moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” she murmured in reply. “It was my choice.”

“I shouldn’t have let you stay,” he insisted. “Not on your own, not with _her_. I should’ve stayed with you, I—”

“You were needed here.”

“ _So are you_.”

It seemed an age before they parted. His flesh hand came up to brush a lock of hair that had come loose from her bun. He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t know how. She understood that, though, for she was in the same position.

That wasn’t to say, however, she didn’t have things to tell him. She forced the next words out before she lost her nerve.

“Adam says hello. And… he wants you to know he’s sorry. That he doesn’t blame you—he’s so proud of you. And he wants you to be happy. He really does, he wishes you the best—” She had more, maybe, but she’d been babbling so impulsively, so unplanned and chaotic, it didn’t really matter when he grabbed her and pulled her towards him again. It seemed that this; her return and these words, had been the straw to break his back, and he sobbed into the crook of her shoulder, cradling her against him.

Was he crying because of Adam or because of her?

 _Silly Princess_. It sounded almost affectionate, under the teasing. Was this what it was like to have an older brother? _He’s crying for both of us. He’s **happy**._

“I never got to say goodbye.” Shiro’s voice was soft—reverent—under the tears. “But you… you _saw_ him?”

“I couldn’t bring him back,” she confessed. “He wouldn’t let me. And I’m not sure I could have— _should_ have—even if he had.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

He stared at her, fierce with disbelief. “Don’t you apologise,” he said, teeth gritted because his jaw was shaking so much that his words would be otherwise unintelligible. “I’m just… I can’t believe this. I can’t believe _you_ , I…” His eyes shone. Not with tears but with pure unbridled _joy_ , like she’d never seen before. Perhaps a shade of it, long ago, but it had been muted by exhaustion as all he’d manged was a soft _you found me_ before slipping back into unconsciousness.

“You’re back,” he finally settled on, cupping her face again. She beamed at him; at all of them. “You’re back.”

“I am,” she agreed, raising her hands to cradle his wrist, pull it from her face to hold his hand. With her other arm, she reached for Coran’s. It felt like slipping on a long-forgotten garment; familiar and well-loved and fitting perfectly. Suddenly the emptiness seemed just that; empty. Vast and cold and harsh. She understood now why Adam had disliked it so much, didn't let herself wonder what would've happened if he hadn't come, hadn't pointed it out. This, here, alongside Coran and Shiro and all the others... this was where she belonged. A prick of guilt caught her, and she looked to Lance, but he looked as though he couldn’t be happier as he gazed at her, relieved and delighted, leaning against Keith, their arms loosely entwined. _Takashi isn't the only person who can fall in love more than once_ , murmured that voice on the edge of her mind.

“And I promise, this time, I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

“So… you can _hear_ him?”

Shiro asked her this question under a canopy of stars, lying side by side with her in a field of juniberries. She could still hardly believe there were entire fields of them now, as she hadn’t seen since her childhood. In retrospect, even the holograms in the Castle of Lions had been a poor copy. Nothing could quite capture their radiant colour, nor their distinct, sweet scent. New Altea’s moons hung above them in the sky, an infinity of stars to keep it company. It had been but a week since her return, and this was the first moment they had alone.

First, she’d been swarmed by medics, subjected to rigorous examination only to be pronounced completely healthy. Then it had been a whirlwind of political addresses and meetings, arranging her return to leading the coalition. Coran had been at her side every minute, and honestly she wasn't sure if she could've ben able to keep up with the gruelling pace if not. More than ever she was thankful for his support.

In between all of that, she’d had the briefest moment to speak to Lance; to apologise in more detail. Most of that time, they had simply stood there and hugged one another. He had then asked her to take back his marks. Not out of dislike for them, but because he thought it was best. She agreed. They had both moved on; both changed. And yet...

“ _I love you. I think I always will_.”

“ _But just because we love each other, doesn’t mean we’re meant for each other_.” With a brush of her thumbs, the little marks had been gone, and she’d planted a kiss on his forehead.

“ _You’re special to me, Allura_. _You know that, right?_ ”

“ _As long as you know you’re special to me, too_.”

She couldn’t help but be reminded of Shiro and Adam. Of what he had said to her in the in-between, and what he continued to say to her now that she’d left.

“Not… _exactly_ …” she said slowly, frowning as she considered her words carefully. She turned from the sky to look at him. “Just… sometimes if I think something strong—especially about you—I can… I know what he would say if he were standing right next to me. It's not like he's in my head, there's no psychic link." She wondered if this would sadden him, if he had been holding onto the hope that he could speak to his once-love just one more time.

He didn't seem to be upset, though, because he simply stared at her, fascinated. “Do you know why?”

Allura shook her head. “Maybe because we spoke in the in-between space,” she shrugged. “Between that, and all the three of us have been through… it makes sense we might share a connection of some sort.”

“Will it fade?”

“Almost certainly,” she answered, and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked merely curious. “Adam’s soul is in beyond, like my father’s. I freed it when I left. Not even Honerva is there anymore, she’s… wherever the dead go, I suppose. I think Adam’s connection lingers because we left at the same time.”

“Then… before he goes…” Shiro looked almost anxious. “Could you… could you just apologise from me? And tell him I love him.”

She heard no words in her mind, only a laugh. She chuckled. “He already knows,” she told him. “He wants nothing more than for you to be happy. And for you to get a new arm.”

He looked down at his prosthetic, then back up at her. “Really?” His eyes were wide. “He came from the afterlife, brokered a mental connection with an alien princess, speaks across dimensions to tell me _that?_ ”

She laughed again. She laughed often, now. So did Shiro. So did all of them. For the first time in a long time, they had cause to. “Yes. Yes he does. He thinks it’s ugly.”

Shiro frowned. “It’s not as sleek as the first one, is it?” he admitted.

“Pidge can build you a new one,” she assured him breezily. “And I can get my crown back.”

He smirked at her. “How do I know you're not just using Adam against me to do just that?" he teased.

“Oh, no, that thing really _is_ ghastly,” she replied, smirking back. “I didn’t have a lot of options with your earth technology. But yes, I want my crown back, too.”

“Then you shall have it, Princess,” he declared, shifting to cup her face with his flesh hand. She laughed, blushing. He grinned at her, then his expression softened. “I mean it,” he said quietly. “You gave it to me without a second thought, that last piece of your own homeland. Do you have any idea how selfless you are?”

“You were in pain,” she protested. “You needed it more than I did, you—”

“No,” he insisted gently. “You’re so generous, Allura. Maybe too generous. It’s time you got what you want, for a change. You will _absolutely_ get your crown back. You look beautiful with or without it but it’s a part of you, it’s a part of Altea and you _will_ get it back. I’ll go without an arm for a while, even.”

She tried to protest, but he shook his head. “Anything and everything you want, you’ll have it,” he promised. “You deserve it all and more.” The softness of his voice, the adoration in his words. For the first time she wasn’t trying to explain it away, convince herself she was playing it up, force herself not to think about it. For the first time she could just allow herself to love him, to be loved _by_ him. Shiro’s thumb brushed over her cheekbone, across her marking. It glowed when he touched it. He beamed at her.

“I want you,” she told him.

He chuckled softly. “Allura…” he murmured, eyes bright with love. It stole her breath away. “Try asking for something you don’t already _have_.”

In her mind’s eye, Allura saw a gentle smile on a tanned face. A hand raised to adjust glasses, lenses winking in the light. He slipped away, like a dear friend quietly letting himself out, allowing them privacy.

She leaned in and kissed him. Kissed him like she’d dreamed of doing for so very long, kissed him like she thought she never would. And he kissed her back, kissed her like he’d ached to do from almost the moment he’d lain eyes on her. More sweetly than she’d ever dared imagine, more softly than she’d known was possible. She fit so perfectly against him, he knew he couldn’t be dreaming because he wasn’t capable of dreaming like this.

The Black Paladin who had lost so unfairly _much_ in this war, not only dedicated his life but _given_ it for the sake of saving others’. _Her_ Black Paladin. The one she had flown Voltron under and commanded alongside. The Princess who had given up her life for the sake of the universe. Lost her planet and her people and yet had continued to sacrifice. _His_ Princess. The one who had let herself be captured to save him, who had sacrificed unendingly to save them all.

Her hands came up to cup his face. He tangled his hands in her hair like he’d dreamt of doing and it was softer and silkier than he’d ever thought possible. The markings on her cheeks glowed, as did the others underneath her dress. She was literally aglow with her love for him, with his for hers. They broke away only when they needed air; else they would have been content to stay there forever.

At Allura, he grinned; his smile joyful, bright as the stars. At Shiro, his eyes dark, intense and all she’d ever need, she beamed; radiant. The sky above them—impossibly vast, the sky she had constructed atom by atom, pouring her love and her quintessence and her very being into each one of them—glittered.

“I want to give you the stars.”

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a card-catalogue of my issues with the series finale, including but not limited to: fridging Allura, a complete lack of development for both of Shiro's male love interests, a _severely_ rushed and underdeveloped 'romance' between Allura and Lance, everything about Shiro's new arm, and completely skipping over Coran's reaction to Allura's 'death' despite the fact that he was like a second father to her and didn't even get to say goodbye.


End file.
